The Sister Queen
by Lekkerding
Summary: Original story. Original character. No relation to whatever I labeled here (those labels are required to publish, so I had to pick something). We start in England, in a far removed land, where a child, born with a caul, receives a name worthy of a Queen.


She had silvered hair. Strange, for a new born. That was long ago, when the world was filled with plagues and monsters. Too long ago. And yesterday, by the grace of time. She was born with a caul, a thin white veil covering her already crowned head. Every person in the land would run from that pale child, yet her mother and father called her a blessing from the gods. Their silvered gift grew strong, making their everyday heaven as the earth around them withered in the cold winds of winter.

Ignorance and bliss would not last long for that child, as it didn't save her sister queen, from whom she got her name, living in times where the souls of men and women alike had no windows. A time of turmoil for those who claimed to serve the faith. And as the snow fell harsh on their ground, their prayers would all be answered in sterling ashes.

The Caulbearer, she was called as she died. When the faith came, she tasted life for the first time, in the ashes of her old self, now free from illusions of mortality. They hoped to cleanse her soul from its devilish ways; and from their fiery pits, she rose unscathed, raging as a wraith. As she climbed out their stakes, grinning like Death and gleaming within her steeled skin, she had eyes fierce and blue as the waters of the old dark sea, once filled with spaniel ships. "Lifeless", they would scream, as she drained them from it.

That was the day she died. And came reborn, within the caul. As she stood on the grave of her mother and father, who met swift death within her hungry embrace, Eternity laid ahead, as she abandoned her existence after 15 long winters reeling inside her skin. Years went by, and she met the world, along with pleasures ignored by humans. Life was but a fleeting moment, one that she knew well, as privy to this secret beyond. She felt their taste, and feasted on their flesh. Queens and kings would rise and fall, as she marveled at the spectacle of existence.

She was mesmerized by the wonders concocted by Mankind. Still, she could not fathom how little appreciation they had for that fleeting gift. In her arms, as life disappeared, she could taste all useless sorrows running through their veins. For a moment, she remembered that slice she had, long ago, and the warmth of sunlight in her pale skin. And she was glad to have her veil, to guide her with clarity into the shadows of Eternity.

As time went by, she mastered many shades of herself, while puzzled by how fast humans would fall prey to them. Their thoughts grew louder through the centuries. Within time, she came to whisper in and out of their minds. Her murmur's dance got stronger, as she grew silent. Few heard her wooly voice, so haunting and profound that even the bravest warrior would bend to his knees at her command. And silence was her friend, as she no longer suffered with hunger. She would always find a human to quench her thirst willingly, between whispers in the back of their heads.

The marvels of the world had ceased to amaze her. Though she would always appreciate the gift as she basked in its pure form trickling down her mouth, all else was ordinary. She was less phased by the ways of humans, and how their history would repeat itself time and again. Kings would rise and fall. Few would have plenty while many had nothing. This lot would suffer for that lot to thrive. Pettiness and anger would run amuck whilst time flew by and wasted their gift away, only to cherish it in her arms, at their final moment.

That was their story, that was all they had. Humans had a talent for wondrous things. Yet it all went for naught in rules and control. They didn't live long enough. And they didn't live at all. She grew weary of their tunes, as they played her the same song of regret. She would hum and dance as she drank all in, but there was no more fire in it.

She became irresistible, even to her own kin. She was glad enough to have her fellow lords and ladies of time submitting to her will. But never she ventured into draining them. The sheer thought of their taste would send her entire body into a wave of excruciating pain. It seemed this was an unspoken rule, lurking in the shadows: They could taste life, but not eternity itself. Even then, she grew curious, and reveries were built and destroyed over the thought of that taste.

She then discovered the addictive taste of birth. She was used to be the end of things; that was her side of the bargain in Eternity as she understood it. She never thought herself to be the beginning, and now she relished at the flavor of genesis. She was eager to drink the lives of her brothers and sisters, and welcome them into Eternity.

She rejoiced as their truth slowly came to light, and her ivory fangs dug deep to unearth their most basic truth. She gave them a breath of life as they crossed the threshold of Existence and discovered a new path, ever there, and everlasting. Living bearers had incredible strength, though, and bending them was almost never easy. She enjoyed the hunt immensely. The harder they fought, the more she wondered about their spirits and shades as they became lords and ladies of time.

Many were deeply wounded in such times, as her hair, bright and sharp as the finest sword on the land, cut through them like scissors through paper. Tough she relished in such occasions, they took a toll on her. The battle wounds took their time to recover. And it took longer and longer, as the sands of time moved around her. Eternity had a price; and being their Mother would collect it with interest.

She remained nameless and unmatched to her fellows. Modern age made ignorance of the past a rule. And none alive remembered her sister queen, fallen under the spell of love. None knew the story of the caul raised from ashes. And more than 400 years later, Anne kept herself far from the spotlight, silently dealing ends and beginnings, holding Life and Death in her hands.


End file.
